September Eyes
by EamonSweetmay
Summary: This was the original title of How to Break a Girl, and contains the same first four chapters. Then the two stories split, and this will be the happier ending. Riddick and Jack.
1. Wounds

**September Eyes Chapter one**

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Disclaimer: I don't claim to own Pitch Black - though I would like to own Vin Diesel

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Wounds - **Jack**

_When I said that it would suit me fine,_

_If you were out of sight and out of mind_

_That wasn't me talking,_

_That was my wounded pride._

_(Trisha – "Believe me baby (I lied)" )_

What the fuck was I thinking? What load of fucking shit-pile of fuck brought the plan of following Riddick to my retarded, shit of a brain?

I was staying in some dump of a motel somewhere in the outskirts of New Mecca, with nothing but a homemade knife and some money I stole.

I'd done a lot of _fucked-up_ things in my life, such as leaving home to become a pilot, stealing from mercs and stowing away on the _Hunter Gratzner_. But leaving Imam to follow Riddick, to dust up a guy who is close to non-existing, that'll have to take the prize.

Our parting wasn't too pleasant, though. All shit full of shouting and stuff. Riddick had my whole life planed out; go with Imam, go to school, grow up, live happily ever after – all the shit that made me run away from my parents to begin with.

And how did Riddick get so fucking holy all of a sudden? Not like he'd ever dream of settling down himself! Not like _living happily ever after_ was a concept he'd care to explore…

Somewhere in my head a bubble burst. Of course he'd never settle down. So what was the fucking point in trying to track him down? Even if I'd find him – not likely – he'd just tell me to go back to Imam. Or even worse: my family.

He'd tell me the same tings that made me scream at him at the docking port, when we'd left the merc ship: it's not safe with me; you're going to be a young woman soon; you should be somewhere with people who can love you and take care of you! Shit-load of crap!

I told him blank out that he could go fuck himself. I'd never said anything like that to him, and I think it kinda hurt him. Serves him right. But my painful discourse didn't end there, oh no. I told him that if he cared so little about me, and obviously couldn't stand having me around, I wouldn't care if I'd never see him again, that he could drop dead or get killed by mercs and I wouldn't care. He got a sort of worried frown when I was done, looked like he'd might say something soothing, but I just spun on my heels and made a run for it. I only just made it behind the nearest building before the tears came.

When Imam found me huddled behind some liquor store dumpster, Riddick was long gone. Imam smiled when he found me, said that Riddick and I were more alike than any of us knew. Then he told me about how Riddick's life started out in a liquor store trash bin just like the one I'd found. I might have felt something close to pity at the time, but somehow _hate_ drowned out all other emotions. But the story stuck with me and filled me with doubt, guilt and love, emotions I hadn't felt since my early childhood.

So I left Imam just before our transport to his home planet took off, and I had been following a ghost ever since. Two different planets, hundreds of different cities. He was long gone. That's how I ended up back here in new Mecca.

Copyright © 2006 by EamonSweetmay


	2. Bounds

**September Eyes Chapter two**

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Disclaimer: I don't claim to own Pitch Black – though I would like to own Vin Diesel.

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Bounds – **Riddick**

_I don't want to be the one the battles always choose_

'_Cause inside I realize that I'm the one confused_

_I don't know what's worth fighting for or why I have to scream_

_I don't know why I instigate and say what I don't mean_

_I don't know how I got this way, I know it's not alright_

_So I'm breaking the habit tonight_

_(Linkin Park – "Breaking the habit")_

I saw her body move as the wild music thumped through the speakers in the club. I saw her hair brush through the air as she tossed her head, and knew that her warm blood was pounding to the rhythm of the base. She saw me through the crowd of bodies; she caught a single glimpse of my eyes. With a smile on her beautiful face, she moved in my direction, like a cat, like a hunter. Her body was wet with sweat, her chest rising as she breathed in heavily, making the strings in her corset stretch. Her body was slim, muscular, and agile. Her skin was white and soft, and her eyes...

I knew those eyes. An autumn forest, green, specked with crimson, brown and golden leaves, rustling in the warm breeze, against a deep blue, never-ending sky. September eyes. Jacks eyes. She leaned in and let me wrap my hands around her hips. I took a deep breath, smelled her scent.

The light was crushing and disoriented me for a few seconds. When I had put on my glasses and cleared my head from the dream I had been having, I remembered that I was in some abandoned warehouse. With a non-audible curse I got up and left. By the docks I found an unlocked ship, where I washed the blood and sweat off. Then I was on the move again, looking for the prey of the day – a merc called Nicolo Rodrick. I was presumed dead by most mercs, but there were always the single odd fellow, who thought that he could be a hero and hit the big payday. I found him with a whore in a dirty motel. I shot him clean – no pain – and let the whore live. _Soft_, some might call it. _Decent_ would be the choice of words by others. What the fuck did I care, as long as the sonuvabitch was dead.

I was reluctant to leave this planet, to get aboard another ship. I had gotten a bit claustrophobic after the last flight, where the ass-hole of a captain had forgotten to check the power cells, and we had been adrift for weeks, out of cyro-sleep, but still locked in the passenger compartments, which were no bigger than a grown man like me could reach to scratch his own nose. At least I was now traveling without blindfold and horse bit. But that was when the dreams started. Dreams where this beautiful young woman was seducing me, and though she looked nothing like the Jack I remembered, I still knew that it was her. Because of the eyes.

Some nights I felt like I was breaking with pain from having shoved away the only person who had ever accepted me without questions. Other nights I almost hated her, for hating me.

Carolyn was the one who had shown me how to rejoin the human race, as she had put it. But jack was the one who had keep me human. One night on that goddamned skiff she curled up in my lap, like a cat. I allowed myself to enjoy the feel of her body heat and her heartbeat, and she purred as I stroked her shaved head. She was so young, so fragile and still so hardcore, so brutal in her language and in her perception of people and life.

Some old saying goes: Men fear death as children fear to go into the dark.

I've seen grown men piss themselves before I even hurt them. I've seen soldiers cry and beg for me not to kill them. But even though Jack was still a child when I knew her, she didn't fear the dark, fuck, she didn't fear anything.

Why did I leave her? Had no choice, did I? What I've been through these past years since I left her – I bet even Jack would have been scared.

And then there was the parting. I don't know if she really felt those things she said. But I can smell fear, lust and anger – and I could hardly breathe with all the anger she was emitting. My little Jack. Even if I did try to find you, even if I did try to make things right, why then should you ever forgive me for what I did? I left you. Just like I was left. I can't even forgive myself.

Copyright © 2006 by EamonSweetmay


	3. Flaws

**September Eyes Chapter three**

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Disclaimers: I don't claim to own Pitch Black – though I would like to own Vin Diesel

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Flaws – **Jack**

_Here's the chance of life_

_Get ready, set, fly, high_

_Above the fears of you mind_

_Go for it, it's hit or miss_

_Too late for you to quit._

_(Athena Cage – "All or Nothing")_

Brutal pain was threatening to split open her head as she fought to keep conscious. She dragged herself the last few meters, and passed out on the floor, next to the unmade bed. A puddle of blood was the last thing she registered before she passed out.

It was mid-noon before she woke again, although it was hard to tell, because of the constant pale light in the city, night and day alike. She was in her motel room, cramped together like a fetus on the smooth terrazzo floor of the bathroom. There was blood in the sink and all over the floor. Sometime during the night she must have dragged herself out here to get water, and she had left blood tracks on the carpet, from the door to the bed and from a large puddle by the bed a smaller trace of blood let to the bathroom.

She remembered screams, but thought they might be her own. But she hadn't been the only one screaming. Not when she left the parking lot. She had that knife for a reason, and the three young men, who had attacked her had been dead or dying when she left.

She tried to puke, but she hadn't eaten for days and a rough mixture of water and acid was all that ended in the toilet.

It wasn't like she hadn't killed someone before, but for some reason the latent anger she felt for Riddick had overwhelmed her last night and those young men died in the most painful ways. At least they had money, so they would be buying her dinner today. Thanks guys.

She found an isolated road café where two truckers were eating fried beans and toast and the waiter called her honey, and handed her a wet towel for her head, which had started to bleed again.

It took her two hours to eat the sausage and mashed potatoes, and the constant pale light outside was somehow darker when she left.

Outside the café a bulletin screen was showing updates on bounties and outlawed. No Riddick. There never was.

But at least she knew she was on his tail now. Some whore she had met out on the streets last night, just before she had been attacked, had seen him. Said he had killed her costumer; She remembered because of the eyes. She said it wasn't three days ago.

Back at the motel Jack met Carla, a hype who she had allowed to stay at the room once in a while. The two barely talked; Carla knew very few words and the once she did knew was a mess between swearwords and made-up ones.

But that night Carla surprised Jack.

"Ya know… ya had one motherfucking guy here to see ya." She said hoarsely. She was lying in the empty tub in the bathroom, drawing stars in the air with her index finger.

"Who?"

"Some sonuvabitch. Thought he was a fucking cup at first, coz of the shit-ass of a gun. Fucking turned out he was just somebody. Somebody fucking else. A dick." She stopped drawing stars and looked at Jack who was standing in the bathroom door. "Said 'e was lookin' for one Jack, and I said in my fucking self:I fucking know one Jack."

"Who was he? What did he want?"

"Umm, dunno f'sure. Said 'e be back later, the sonuvabitch did."

For some reason Jacks hand had reached for the knife in her belt. "What about his eyes? Was his eyes weird?"

"Weird? No. I dunno really. He was wearin' some glasses of a sort." Jack took a step back. Carla just keep talking. As if she had finally talked her self warm, and thought she'd say all the words she never normally said. "Black glasses. His clothes was all fucking black too. Dunno why I thought him to be a motherfucking cup, really. Dunno."

Jack was at the door before Carla had stopped talking. She didn't know why she was running away, just that she had always thought that she'd be the one to find Riddick, not the other way around.

How did he even find her? How could he know where she was? She'd let her hair grow out, she'd grown taller and older – looked nothing like the Jack he used to know. So how did he find her? Had he talked to Imam?

She was halfway down the streets when she heard a yell.

"Hey ya, Jack." It was Carla. "Where the fucking hell d'ya think ya going? That sonuvabitch is here to see ya."

She broke into a run and had been running about a minute or so, when she knew he was right behind her. She didn't know why she was running, just knew she was suddenly scared. Scared of Riddick? Normal people would have good reason, but Jack didn't.

So she stopped dead and leaned against a brick-wall, tears streaming down her cheeks, shaking like a dog, which has just been kicked by its owner. Her legs gave in and he caught her in his arms.

She looked up and saw that he hadn't changed a bit; that same smug smile on his face. And suddenly anger caught hold of her again, and she started to kick and hit every part of his body she could reach. He let her. He kept his arms around her, and he hushed her like someone would hush a pet or a baby.

When she was spent, she relaxed in his arms. She didn't even have the strength to cry.

"How the fuck did you find me?" she whispered. It was so softly, she wasn't even sure he heard it.

"Not difficult. Just had to follow the trail of dead bodies."

She smiled. "Likewise."

He picked her up, like she was made from dust bunnies, but she fought her way out of his arms and demanded to walk on her own two feet. He smiled.

"You smell beautiful." He said putting a hand on her head and stroking her hair.

"Furyans!" she hissed, and gave him a sharp look.

His smile widened. "Don't even get me started!"

Copyright © 2006 by EamonSweetmay


	4. Bravery

**September Eyes Chapter four**

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Disclaimers: I don't claim to own Pitch Black – though I would like to own Vin Diesel

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Bravery – **Riddick**

And I see no bravery,

No bravery

In your eyes anymore.

Only sadness.

(James Blunt – "No Bravery")

She past out halfway back to her motel room, and I knew her blood loss had been dangerous. I'd seen her room and the blood allover the floor and walls. I picked her up and carried her to a ship at the docking port. She was out cold for at least a few hours. It was night, but that didn't matter, not here. The city was so brightly lit, and the sky was blocked out by a constant mist covering the buildings, making the whole goddamned city look like a ghost city.

I took a look at the cut in the back of her head and the other serious wounds, thigh, back and chest, where she had been cut. There were old scars everywhere; one bullet hole; two cuts, which looked to have been deep; several smaller cuts all over her body. She had been in more than just cat fights. These had been fights for life and death.

I'd always told myself that as long as she was not with me, she'd be safe. Guess I was wrong. Interesting.

She had grown. She was taller, more muscular. She had hips and breasts and she had let her hair grow long; all those woman things. And I couldn't help but notice that she somehow smelled different too.

As a furyan I noticed the animal trades much more than other people, and for that very reason the smell of a woman intoxicated me that much more. I sat there looking at her, at the fine lines of her face, the little twitches at her eyes and her lips caused by her dreams. I saw every little scar. I watched how her childish hands were clenched at her side, how her chest would rise and sink as she breathed. I smelled her sweat, her blood. Then I left.

I walked out into the city, needed to clear my mind.

She looked like the woman from my nightly dreams, but, and I knew this, only for as long as she was asleep. When she would wake, she'd be the tiger again, and this time she would be rested, this time she would have the strength to hurt me if she wanted. And she would want to.

I considered for a moment if I should even keep on trying. What was the point? I had already half decided not to go looking for her, when I heard that she was here, in this city. And if I left her again now? She couldn't hate me more than she already did.

When I returned to my ship – well, it was my ship now, I had decided – she was just waking up. I crouched down in a corner, in the dark, where I cold look at her without my goggles. From where she was I knew she couldn't see me, but I knew she'd still know that I was there.

She looked a little dazed at first, but I knew every part of her mind was buzzing with awareness. Instinctively she scanned the room for exits and immediate dangers. When she felt safer, her eyes fell on me. I knew her mind was working overtime, figuring out if she should yell, hug me or just leave. As I had predicted she decided on the last option, getting to her feet with a catlike movement. Unluckily her body wasn't ready for this, and she fell to the floor with a thump. I tilted my head, a gesture that at children was endearing, but with me was just plain vexing. It got her attention, worked her nerves and made her mad. I could smell it.

But even though her anger was overwhelming, I could smell other things as well. Fear… My little Jack was afraid.

She got to her feet, and this time she stayed there. I was blocking the door, but she calculated her chances and decided to give it a shot.

I calculated my chances, grabbed her and slammed her against the wall. She was scratching and biting, but she didn't make a sound. I knew my grip was leaving a bruise on her wrist, but she didn't seem to notice. Finally she relaxed and looked into my eyes. And just then I realized that what she was afraid of was me.

I let go of her wrists, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close to me. For a few seconds she relaxed. Then she was ready again and fought her way out of my arms, running for the door. I caught her, but she just hissed and bit me.

"Don't make me hurt you, Riddick!" she said.

I laughed. "You hurt me?"

She kicked out, aiming for my crotch, but I grabbed her leg and sent her to the floor on her back. She got up, as if nothing had happened. This wasn't about her being angry or scared anymore. This was power play. This was her wanting me to know that she didn't need me. And me showing her that she was thoroughly wrong.

It was an unfair fight, until she somehow found a switch and turned on the light in the room.

"Glad I never got eyes like that." She taunted and moved, so I couldn't follow her voice.

She launched at me from the front, sending me to the floor with her squatting my chest. I tried to catch her hands, to turn the fight around, but she was faster than me, so I used my legs and got to the part of her that I knew where was: her butt. I wrapped my legs around her hips and rolled, and in less than seconds I had her locked beneath me. She was sweating and panting, and she knew she had lost.

She lifted her hips to find a more comfortable position and she pushed against my groin. I felt my body react and got up off her. I found my goggles and stepped outside, to cool my self down. She came out and stood next to me.

"You know I hated you for leaving." She said. Nothing I didn't know. "But I hated you even more for coming back." I looked away. Shocking me with the truth - always a good tactic. She'd learned it from me.

"I've been looking for you for almost four years, and you just find me in a matter of days…"

"Four years? Did you ever live with the holy man?"

"Ran away right after you left New Mecca."

"I think you have trust issues."

"Wonder where I got those!"

"What was I suppose to do, Jack? Have you tag along. It's not like it's been safe…"

"I wouldn't be tagging along. And it's not like it's been so fucking safe alone either!"

"I didn't ask you to come find me!"

"No you asked me to be a nice little girl! What the fuck were you thinking? That I'd go buy my self a doll and wear a dress? That I'd do what you said? Why? Because you said it?"

"I thought you'd do as I said, because it was the sane thing to do!"

"When the fuck have I ever done anything sane, Riddick? Hu?" She was at the top of her voice and I could smell that she was bleeding again. She tilted backwards, and I caught her before she hit the floor. I took her up in my arms and carried her to the backroom, where there was a bed. She didn't fight me this time. She just curled up in my lap, like she had that one night back at the skiff. I couldn't stop my body from reacting to the closeness of her body and her sent, but she didn't notice. She just fell asleep and had nightmares, where I couldn't protect her.

Copyright © 2006 by EamonSweetmay


	5. Stormed

This is a whole new take on one of my stories called How to Break a Girl.It was so sad I decided to write this happier ending, which mean that chapter one to four is the same as in HtBaG, and Jack is waking up in Riddick's arms. This time there will at least be a happy middle, if not a happy ending.

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Disclaimers: I don't claim to own Pitch Black – though I would like to own Vin Diesel

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Stormed - **Jack**

_It's been a while_

_Since I could hold my heard up high_

_And it's been a while_

_Since I first saw you…_

_And it's been a while_

_But all that shit seems to disappear_

_When I'm with you_

_(Staind "It's been a while")_

She woke up in Riddick's arms, half sedated by lack of oxygen, half dazed by her blood loss. His grip around her tightened, just a bit so that she would know that he was awake and had registered that she was too.

His body was warm, strong and comforting and she allowed herself to feel safe for the first time since she could remember. She wanted to press her body as close to his as she could get, wanted to feel his breath on her neck and his hand on her body.

For some reason she could feel him pulling away, just a little, and his body tensed. Then she remembered that he could smell lust and she tried to get away, confused by her own feelings, but Riddick let out a groan and pulled her tighter into him. "Schh…" he hushed, and buried his nose in her long mane of hair. She let out a calm sigh, but swore silently to herself. So she had found Riddick, so he seemed to want her around, so fucking what? What now?

She knew there would be no happy ending; there just wasn't room for one in lives like theirs. Question was whether there would even be a happy middle. Course she'd never admit to it, but she knew Riddick had been right. She was becoming a woman, and as a woman she would be a liability to him.

She got up and walked feebly to the exit door. Riddick raised his head to look after her, but lay back down, when he was sure she could stand all right.

The first gasp of air was intoxicating and she took in deep breaths, drinking in the cold night. They had left the ghost city behind and had docked at a makeshift port in the middle of nowhere, where the dock workers were milky-skinned and white-haired and spoke in whispers as they moved around the cargo of the dodgy ships, which docked here.

She learned against the cold metal, feeling the wind on her face. It had been weeks since she had last felt the wind blow, weeks since she had last stared out into darkness. The ghost city didn't have wind, and it didn't have darkness either.

She wondered what could have brought Riddick to a city with out darkness. The merc he had killed? Perhaps. Her? Not likely. He had probably just stumbled across the scent of her blood and followed it to the apartment.

"Feeling better?" She turned around with a start. She hadn't heard him, he moved so softly. Riddick smiled and placed a big hand on her head. "Running made you jumpy." He said and stroked her dark hair. "I'm surprised you didn't hear me."

"Lot on my mind." She whispered. She could feel his body close to hers; she could feel his body heat, his breath on her, hear his blood pound. His smell and pulse stirred something in her, something animal, which she wasn't ready for. She moved her feet around nervously.

"Like what?" he asked in a deep, tempting voice. The smug sonuvabitch. Like he couldn't smell and feel exactly what she felt right then. But that was Riddick. He'd ask you to paint him a picture even though he was looking strait at the motif. Then, quietly, almost soundlessly he growled. She could feel the sound working its way through her body, setting in motion feelings she couldn't imagine she owned.

She knew what he was doing; she was older now, and thought she would be less affected by his rough charm and animal appeal. She was horrendously wrong. The effect was far stronger than she had feared and longed for, and for a few seconds she would have let him do anything to her. But he didn't use those seconds, and she forced herself out of that trance.

She turned around to face him, but the goggles hid his eyes, and even if he hadn't been wearing them, she'd still only see that silvery shell, hiding his soul. She let her eyes down and pushed past him, feeling the touch of his skin burn her.

"I can smell your anger." he said, looking out into the darkness, not on her clenched fists and tense back. "And I know you hate me for busting into your life, Jack. But I couldn't stay away." He turned and looked at her, removed his goggles and looked strait at her. "Because you and I need each other."

She spun around on her heals, hot with anger and spite. "Don't you fuck with me, Riddick. You left. Proving very clearly that you don't need anyone, least of all me. What you need can be bought!"

Riddick jumped at her so suddenly that she stumbled back, defencelessly. He showed her against the wall and locked her to it with his arms. "I could buy or force myself upon every whore in the populated world." He growled fiercely, his face just inches away from hers. She kept her face cold and ignored the fact that he was staring her down.

He lowered his arms, took a step back to let her breath. "But you came to look for me, Jack. Because you trusted me. Despite of what I am." He looked into her eyes.

She clenched her jaw and bit back a sob, determined not to let him see her fear. "No, Riddick. Not despite of what you are. Because of what you are." She pressed against the wall, whishing he would back away even more. "But I was wrong. I'm not strong enough to handle you!" She pushed him away and ran out of the ship, into the night, forgetting that he could watch her every move even after the darkness had consumed her.

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She woke up in the darkness of the skiff. "Riddick?" she tried to force her eyes to see through the dark. "Riddick?" He appeared at her side.

"Don't you ever sleep?" she asked. Riddick just smiled. "No. Why? What is it?"

"Nothing." She bit her lip and turned around, so he couldn't see her face.

"You used to be a better liar, Jack. What's the matter?"

She kept her back turned, and pulled the blanket up to cover her mouth and nose. "Don't wanna talk about it."

Riddick looked at her back, at how it rose and dropped with every breath the girl took. "Is it a girl's problem?" he asked and looked at her shaved head.

"Sort of." Jack said, her voice failing her to say more. She sat up and Riddick squatted down next to her. She looked at his face. "I'm scared." She finally said, and it felt so wrong to hear those words said out loud. So she covered her mouth.

"That's not a girl problem, Jack."

"But it feels so wrong. I mean the worst part is over now. We're off the planet. We're safe."

Riddick sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "You know, there are many monsters in this world, Jack. And sometimes people feel safer around monsters they can see and more scared around people who they can't tell is monsters, before it's too late." He squeezed her lightlyand let her put her shaved head on his shoulder. "But you know, there will always be monsters, Jack. So you've gotta learn to fight them, all of them, no matter how good they desguise themselves." Jack looked at Riddick, her hero and mentor. She knew he'd keep her safe, that he would never let anything happen to her...

**

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Eamon.** I changed this for the 2. time, first to make Jack more tough and hard, then to add this last bit about her and Riddick back at the skiff. Humm… She is older, haven't seen Riddick in a while. She realises that they can't just take off where they left their relationship. She's a fully fledged female now, Riddick is well aware of it, but Jack isn't ready to be one. Riddick is a real man, and a lot to handle. 

Could have made her fall into his arms, but we've seen that. I want Jack to be scared and then attain the courage to go back to him and become a woman.

Weird? Wrong? Stupid? Pointless? Dreadful? Review!


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